I can hardly comprehend how another year has come and gone. 2017 was a whirlwind of activities and obligations muddled with intense grief, stagnancy, doubt, and getting my hopes up about things that ultimately did not work out. It’s not easy to admit, especially as I’ve tried to shield myself against it with well-meaning intentions and mindfulness in the past, but 2017 was one of the least joyous years of my life. When I reflect on all that’s happened to us, a quote I heard recently comes to mind:

“Grief has a way of becoming about everything in one’s daily existence…Everything bathed in the sadness of loss.” –David Giffels in Furnishing Eternity

It’s been increasingly difficult to open up to others about these things, in person or online. The more I share, the more I’ve been hurt, so I do what is familiar and easy in the short term–I retreat and close myself off to the possibility of connection, understanding, or empathy from others. While I could (and certainly have a tendency to) fixate on how the days, weeks, and months continue to weigh on me, I can’t ignore there is another side, a place of calm amidst the turbulent waters.

In terms of experiences, 2017 was a significant year for me. Though I was forced to let go of things that were meaningful to me, I also accomplished things I never dreamed I’d be able to do. I didn’t make as much art as I would have liked, but I found a renewed confidence in my creative ability, said yes to more opportunities, sold more of my pieces, and once again feel that desire to be productive and proactive. I’m making art I’m excited about again.

Though I battle self-doubt and lack of confidence on a daily basis, I put myself out there by accepting offers to model for women-owned brands I admire deeply, STATE (my post about it is here) and Elizabeth Suzann (more on this later in the year!). It’s not easy to be proud of myself–to even feel I’m allowed to be proud, or that what I’ve done is categorically an accomplishment at all. As a woman, a person of color, even just a human being, it often feels more natural to question or reject myself than to be confident or celebrate who I am and what I can do. That disturbs me on a profound level. In 2018 I hold no mercy toward the fear and self-criticism that limits my idea of what I can or should do.

I wasn’t able to remain as physically active as I prefer, as a degenerative disc in my spine coupled with foot complications demanded I give up running and seriously alter my productivity levels at home and at the store. But last year I reached out for help about my chronic back pain and have had some relief thanks to a chiropractor, physical therapy, and yoga (something I was too terrified to try for years). Some days are better than others, and I miss running more than I’m able to express, but I’m learning ways to not only manage pain but heal my body in the healthiest and most long-term way possible (I just got this book and I’m intimidated but excited to dive in). Looking back, it’s surprising how long it took to admit I couldn’t take any more pain. I was stubborn and felt weak. Settling into that vulnerability took a long time, even with my husband, but I’m proud of myself for pushing past the anxiety. While there may seem like more questions than answers about my health at times, I’m grateful for even the small bit of comfort and confidence I’ve found in beginning my rehabilitation. Collectively, all of these experiences from the past year, whether emotionally uplifting or devastating, have allowed me to recognize my own personal and creative needs with better clarity.

For months I have been ruminating on an episode of On Point that my husband and I listened to about anxiety (the episode was specifically addressing teens but I recognized myself immediately)–the idea that people with anxiety, which is different from occasionally being anxious, have a tendency to want to control and possess advance knowledge of how a situation will unfold. The unknown is terrifying, so anxious people feel it lessens anxiety to be prepared and know what to expect. But in reality this awareness and control of outcomes lessens the individual’s ability to adapt and react to stressful situations in a healthy way. It teaches the mind to follow prompts or rely on a script without connection to the real world, without real knowledge or development. I never thought of my own anxiety in this sense–that every time I try to manipulate or minimize “surprise” stressors, every time I try to control outcomes to the extreme so I know what to expect in advance, I’m actually doing myself a disservice. I’m preventing my mind and body from learning ways to adapt to unexpected events and think critically or problem solve on my own. The episode was unnerving and moving as it transported me back to the difficulties I had growing up. The overwhelming feelings I felt back then, and still do, came rushing to the surface, and I wept. Listening, I was fascinated, as though I was seeing and understanding myself fully for the first time (the first time I remember that feeling of intense anxiety was age 5, and it’s been with me ever since). My intent for 2018 is to combat the temptation to give in, to know or predict, control or prepare for every detail and possible outcome. Not knowing, despite the fear it evokes, helps me learn and grow, and I hope to experience more of that this year.

It goes without saying that this year I’d also like to focus on reading more (starting with this book, a sweet Christmas gift from my best friend), continue to rehabilitate my body and try running again, make more art, make healthy choices, and grow deeper in my relationships–serving others and myself well. Here’s to a new year–not a fresh start but an opportunity for growth and balance.

For those of you that read the blog, is there anything you’d like to see more or less of this year? More frequent posts? Less fashion? Interpersonal posts? Everyday life? Inspiration? Designer features? My personal art or outfits? I’d love to know!

When I look towards the year ahead, the year in which I turn 30, I’m particularly struck by the ideas of resilience and strength, qualities that are so rooted in regarding one’s life with wondrous appreciation and grace. It’s a key component to thriving with hope and joy that I’ve been lacking. 2017 is about cultivating positivity, working to shift my focus and redirect some of my misplaced emotions and unproductive conclusions. In that sense, my intentions for 2017 are not entirely different from years past and there are several things that remain ongoing works in progress.

I have plans to expand on this subject later, but in short, a major priority is to invest in friendships even when I feel misunderstood or alone in my experiences. I completely failed in that area during 2016. I was so convinced these relationships would just naturally happen without too much work, but the difference now is that I’m actively praying, putting myself in challenging social situations, and engaging in conversations with my best friend (who sadly moved to another country) and husband about ways to improve. I want to reach out and pursue others though it terrifies me, and not simply as an empty remedy to the loneliness I’ve felt the last year. There shouldn’t be a pressure to find deep, life-long intimacy, but I still need to explore how to better engage others, meet new people (especially at church), and grow the relationships I already have.

Another priority is to pursue knowledge and truth–anything that promotes healthy thinking and dialogue between others: reading scripture and praying with my husband, things we already do but long to do more fully and frequently; reading, not just for comfort, but for discomfort–to push myself to learn and study perspectives that may not be my own; finding a podcast or two that I really enjoy and listening regularly; learning a new skill or hobby; exploring with my husband and participating in more cultural activities and opportunities to engage our minds.

After all my surgeries, you’d think eating well would be the norm, but it hasn’t been and I’ve paid the price, so health is a priority this year. Everyone is different, but there’s no denying the link between my body’s ailments and coffee, sugar, gluten, and alcohol. None of them are worth regular physical pain. I’d be lying if I said a byproduct would not be to also lose weight that I’ve put on. Though I’ve had moments of confidence, I haven’t felt like myself in a long time. It’s easy to let difficult life experiences and emotional burdens drag me into a spiral of poor eating and decreased activity, but I’m ready to practice displine.

During the winter it’s not uncommon to feel oppressed by the cold, dark days. I myself retreat inward, which is often not a positive thing. Being thoughtful, intentional, and critical without letting it consume is an art worth practising. A recent post about the dangers of the hyper-examined life has been on my mind a lot. My husband has said that both my greatest gifts and biggest weaknesses are my sensitive heart and introspective nature. I felt this article was written precisely for me:

The hyper-examined life is exhausting. Life, including the Christian life, isn’t meant to be lived by way of nonstop self-appraising and people-pleasing. A day-in, day-out regiment of the hyper-examined life leads inevitably to burnout, frustration, and a nagging sense of unfulfilled desire not based in reality.

By contrast, the well-examined life is not driven by fear or compulsive self-searching but by a humble desire for grace. Personal failures are not meant to be endlessly agonized over but repented of, with confidence in God’s provision for forgiveness and transformation (2 Cor. 7:10). Confidence in the mercies of God disarms paralyzing fear, if we live life knowing that poorly made or even sinful decisions don’t exist outside the scope of God’s plans and promises for us (Rom. 8:38–39).

Instead of meandering from one thing to the next in search of the emotional fulfillment that always feels out of reach, living the well-examined life frees us to drop self-preoccupation and learn the virtues of gratitude and contentment. –Samuel James on The Gospel Coalition

Here’s to not allowing excessive introspection and fear prevent me from living well in 2017. Lord, help me seek diversity in experiences, perspectives, relationships, and means through which I strive to know you better. Help me reject indifference and make time to slow down and welcome failure as part of growth and joy in you.

A short but honest and sweet talk with a woman I’ve been going to barre and spin class with for years and re-reading my favorite book series this week (also this article) encouraged me to reflect on the burdensome feelings that have slowly gotten the better of me. The best way I know how is to write. When you’ve been away for so long, especially from writing, it seems the most sensible thing to do is get right to it.

Anxiety and depression have been with me most of my life and I try to be open about that here, but there are times I’m absolutely sure it’s not an appropriate thing to talk about on a blog. The alternative–fashion, art, interior design, anything else–seems flawed if I’m giving an impression of assured contentment. I post about the bright spots on Instagram but not about the days it’s hard to get out of bed, the tears and isolation. I don’t feel like myself, or maybe not the self I hope to be.

I’ve been avoiding my long to-do list, preferring instead to indulge in negativity and the short-lived satisfaction that comes from procrastination. In the process I’ve completely neglected a space that was once an outlet for creativity and fun. My problem has always been overthinking–worrying that I have nothing to say, that no one will be interested, that I’m just reposting and recycling content, that I’m not as compelling as others. I get stuck believing my everyday life isn’t glamorous enough to blog about and not wanting to confront the unpleasant parts of life. It stops me in my tracks and drags those crippling thoughts of uncertainty to the surface. Bottom line: I’ve been making excuses and feeling sorry for myself. Every tiny decision is difficult so I don’t make any, letting that tense feeling I get when a lack of momentum and busyness somehow happen at the same time takes over. Planning posts, not following through, and later beating myself up about it–it’s a pattern that serves no purpose and one that I’m moving on from. I have a couple things scheduled for the next week or so, and that’s plenty. It’s easy to think you have to keep up, be perfect, but I can choose to be gentler with myself. I want to spend the remaining two and a half months of the year (!!!) exploring and pushing the boundaries of my creative side. This is my favorite season and I want to experience it well, putting my most earnest self forward.

I give myself a pep talk like this every few months and that’s okay. We all need these reminders sometimes.

I’ve been reflecting on the importance of patience in our lives–at work, at home, in our marriage and friendships. The last several years have forced upon me an acute awareness of the difficulty in waiting for those good things my heart desires while also knowing they may never come. There’s a balance to be struck between complete indifference–which I sometimes tell myself I should achieve if my goal is control over and perspective on my emotions–and being utterly overwhelmed. Both are extremes, and in the past I’ve gotten caught up in the false truths of one or the other.

I understand impatience to be an elevation of my own desires above present and future grace. It’s a frustration that persists when those desires, no matter how well-intentioned, are not being satisfied. Even more, it’s a feeling of entitlement and lack of belief in the promises of God.

But waiting does not have to mean waiting in despair, and aiming to be emotionally grounded does not require I teach myself to feel nothing. It means, as someone said to us recently, expressing those emotions constructively, in a way that builds us up and directs us to the one who brings peace and comfort, who is in charge of our lives, working all things for good even when disappointments and hardships make it difficult to see.

Being patient is so closely tied to contentment and I’ve often viewed those concepts in moments of hardship as another way of saying to just give up one’s hopes or settle. When I allow myself the freedom to focus on the present, seeing my desires through God’s sovereignty, my perspective changes. Patience is not giving up but rather accepting that God’s will looks differently than my own, and his is the path to complete fulfillment. Patience is appreciating stillness instead of merely tolerating it. Patience is forgiveness, again and again. It’s grace and love. It’s looking to what we have and not what we don’t. Patience is turning away from fear.

I pray the Lord helps me practice true patience, knowing that through him I am sustained in all things.

Now that all our family has gone back home I finally have a chance to sit down and think about the new year. I’m finding it hard to believe it’s 2016 when my mind is still stuck in 2015–waiting, in transition. Moving on to a new year with things still looming over us unresolved (the house, for instance) isn’t ideal, but perhaps that’s the best reason to look forward and rest in the knowledge that we have hope in Christ.

This year my desire is to focus on what I want to do rather than where I’m lacking, which I admit is a subtle and perplexing distinction. Being aware of my deficiencies is good, but not when it’s my main focus, when I’m self-critical and harsh to the point that I reject the Lord’s redeeming grace and love. This year is about organizing and meal planning more efficiently, downsizing our belongings again, getting out of the house often, visiting Nashville, exploring our city frequently, picnics, picking up my cameras more and my phone less, serving others, spending time with David, spending time with friends, making use of and appreciating what I have, enjoying stillness and resisting the pressure to fill every moment. This year is also about redefining comfort–looking less to food and drink to relax and unwind and not escaping life’s difficulties through endless television and laziness, but finding comfort in good health and moderation, in enriching art forms, in scripture, and in the sustaining satisfaction that comes only from the Lord.

It’s tempting and easy to allow the frustration I feel to overshadow all that is worth celebrating. It’s been a rough week, full of setbacks, getting hurt, and also being the one to hurt. I continue to wish feeling thankful wasn’t something I had to work so hard at, that it was natural and simple, but through by own failure I see God’s glory and grace, and this is a very good thing.

I’m thankful for the safety of my family overseas, for friends and the wise counsel they offer, for the small pleasure of baking cookies and taking walks. I’m thankful for conviction, restraint, and the opportunity to learn to love others better even in the very moments I have failed. For unexpected lunch dates. And for those moments of clarity when dissatisfaction and comparing myself to others isn’t the automatic response. These things are more than enough.

There comes a moment after weeks of being sick in some form or another where you just need to get up and do something no matter how slowly you’ll be doing it. That’s where I am today. I woke up knowing I had to go for a run, even if it was short, even if I didn’t run my normal pace, even if I was left feeling a little tired. My spirits are up, and that was the point–not a difference in circumstance but in attitude.

We exist in a sort of paradox right now: continually hoping things speed up enough at the store so we can have the freedom to actually slow down, provide more for our employees, and be better stewards of the gospel. It feels like we’re on the edge of that. It’s a big responsibility but also exciting to see the store grow and mean something to the community. I almost can’t believe we’re nearly upon the holiday season but I’m certainly encouraged by the possibilities ahead.

The blog has become pretty image heavy lately. Again I’m having a hard time collecting my thoughts and gathering motivation to write. Rather than take a break I’ve told myself I need to post something and anything. It’s easy to use this space as a glorified Flickr rather than what I intended–a place to create and explore and grow by working through my thoughts.

I was talking with my niece and friend Ashley recently about the pressure we put on ourselves to create and post for public feedback. It seems disingenuous but we continue to behave this way. I’d have more to say if I allowed myself to relax and take my time.

The truth is, it’s a strange season in our lives. A displacement like ours–being in this in-between place with no real idea when it will end–is bound to cause some sadness yet I don’t think I felt prepared. I’m struggling to feel I have purpose, something I’ve always battled as a homemaker, and even more so during this transition period while we’re living with David’s mother. I admit I discourage easily and despair over not being in our own home, not having a daily routine, not having my own hideaway and place to be proud of and happy in. My rhythm is thrown way, way off.

I know having a home to clean every day does not define me. My pottery and art collections do not define me. Cooking meals for myself and my husband in our own kitchen doesn’t define me. How I express my creative self doesn’t even define me. But that doesn’t stop me from missing it–my home, the home and life I have made with David. That home is still here, in who we are and how we love each other, but I miss the space where we are free to fully express that love and grace towards one another, enjoying what we’ve built for the last 8 and a half years, together and on our own terms.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or overly concerned with being in a newly renovated house. That’s just not it. In the words of my sister-in-law Lara, “You are a very visual person, whose aesthetic is a natural extension of your self. Your home was filled with that aesthetic and now maybe a part of you seems missing.” But it’s also more than that. I haven’t felt like myself and it took me a few weeks to realize how isolated I’ve been. I drove through our neighborhood a few days ago and was struck by how deeply I longed to be back there. I’m homesick for downtown, our sweet community.

So this is where we are–feeling tired and run down during one of the busiest times of the year, yet in other ways one of the most stagnant. We’re seeking balance and getting through it together with God’s grace. I’m very thankful for the opportunity to see my sin of pride and the ways it manifests in impatience and fear.

This weekend is my favorite of the year–three days of arts and culture downtown–and I’m looking forward to reenergizing and refocusing with dear friends and family in the community that is our home, too.